


Take a sad story and make it better

by Renversermonmonde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x02, Coda, Episode Fix-it, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mamma Mia - Freeform, There I Fixed It, episode fix-it: s12e02 mamma mia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renversermonmonde/pseuds/Renversermonmonde
Summary: What should have happened or been addressed after getting back to the bunker in 12x01"Mamma Mia".





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zafona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafona/gifts).



> A huge thanks to [Zafona](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafona) for her motivating and kind words!

Sam could still feel her hands all over him. Sliding up his arms, down his back and back up his chest. He could still feel her hair, the gentle tickle of it on his cheek, the teasing slide on his back. The way she had asked him questions, while distracting him with her hands, her mouth. Anything to get the information from him, anything to make him betray his brother, his family, his fellow hunters. 

It might have been an hallucination, but hallucinations could be convincing. He would know, after Lucifer. He had had his choice, his autonomy taken away from him. Again. It didn’t matter that if it had been real or not, it had all felt real enough. Just thinking of it made him shiver in disgust. He would wonder when it would stop, but he didn't have the energy to do so. He didn’t get much further than a quick wondering  _ what will come first, me no longer caring when my autonomy is taken away, or losing that autonomy for good? _

He shuddered, cold despite all the blankets piled on and around him. Dean had wrapped him up, making sure he would be warm enough and comfortable enough in the backseat of the Impala. Cas had healed his wounds, but that didn't change the fact he was cold. Cold to the bone, nauseous like he hadn't been in a very long time and tired. God, was he tired. Haunted by memories. though that wasn’t necessarily anything new. Neither the tiredness or the haunting memories were, really. 

Mary -jesus, his mom was alive, he still wasn't sure if that was an aftereffect of the hallucination spell the British woman had used, or if he had finally lost his mind, and a British men of letters chapter, who would have thought that was a thing, which brought him back to Toni and her methods and he really shouldn't go there right now-

Mary had given him a ... well, he supposed it was a motherly look, he'd caught Jody look at him and Dean in a similar fashion once. Mary kept glancing back in the mirror, sometimes he would catch her eye, but he tried very hard not to do that. He stared at the back of Dean's head, on occasion he would lock eyes with Dean as he looked back to check on him. They didn't speak, they didn't have to. They’d been here before and made it through, they would make it through this too. 

Mary and Dean appeared to be in sync so well, one look appeared to contain an entire conversation as Dean had undone his chains and helped him up. Both she and Cas had kept their distance, something he was grateful for. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't think he would have been able to deal with them being closer. Mary was essentially a stranger to him, despite being his mom. Sam had no memory of her, not beyond visiting the past, visiting Dean’s heaven, a hallucination or her ghost. As for Cas, Cas had always been closer to Dean than him. They got on just fine, but when it came to personal stuff, it just got… awkward. Dean, however, Dean had always been close in situations like this, always knew what to say to bring him back and knew what to do to help him settle down. Dean had talked him through what he was doing and told him he'd get him home soon, back to the bunker, back to his room. He had kept up an endless stream of comforting and distracting nonsense all the way back to the Impala. 

Once at the bunker, all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and get some sleep. Just looking at the shower put him off, though. He had turned it on and soon enough the water turned hot, steam filling the bathroom and obscuring the mirror he had ignored to start with. Looking at the falling water brought back the memories of the icy showers he had been treated to. It hadn't been so bad at first, but the longer the cold water fell on his head the more painful it became. Every drop started feeling like a golf ball made of ice, pounding away at his skull, his shoulders, his legs. Just the idea of water on his head made him recoil. But he knew that, while Cas had healed his wounds, he had been stuck in a basement for a few days and despite his cold showers he didn't exactly smell like daisies. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant and very short shower. Once he was under the hot water, he turned so that it would stream down his back. Anything to keep it away from his head, his face. His legs felt wobbly and embarrassingly weak. Sitting down was not an option, however. It would feel too much like being back in that basement. Rationally, he knew that water wouldn't turn cold any time soon, but you try rationalizing stuff to a tortured brain that had hallucinations forced on it. Not as easy as you might think. He finished up quickly in the bathroom, more than ready to fall into bed, burrow down in the pillows and blankets, curl up around a pillow and close his eyes. 

Walking into his room, he noticed someone had turned his bed down, making it easier for him to slip in. Someone had left a pile of pillows and blankets on the chair next to the bed and a steaming cup of tea on his nightstand. He spread the blankets around the bed, putting some of the pillows on the bed as well before sitting down with a deep sigh. He took a careful sip of the tea, noticing it was done just to his taste and took a look around the room. The last time he'd been in here was before the end of the world that didn't happen, before his brother turned into a soul bomb, before god nearly died and the end of the world once again didn't happen. Sometimes  he wondered how this was his life. He got into bed properly, curling around a pillow and making sure no skin was left uncovered by the many blankets. 

Sam woke with a start, a strangled scream halfway out of his mouth, limbs flailing, sending pillows, blankets and a lamp crashing to the floor. It took him a few seconds to realise he was holding his gun, pointing it at the door. He scrambled into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings with his back against the headboard. Every fibre in his body was coiled tight, ready to fight or flee, his hands holding the gun steadily pointed and ready to shoot at anything that might come through the door. 

Before he could have another conscious thought, Mary came bursting through the door, armed with a gun, seemingly ready to defend him from whatever. "Sam, are you okay?!" She demanded as she checked the room for any intruders. 

He tried to reply, tried to explain it had just been a nightmare. The fact he was looking at his mother, which could just as easily be a dream, or yet another hallucination, stopped him short. What part was just a dream? What guarantee was there he was in fact awake? What guarantee was there that he wasn't hallucinating?  

"Sam?!" his brother's worried voice carried through the hallway, followed by two sets of footsteps rapidly making their way towards his room. Dean slowed down just enough to make it through the doorway without crashing into either the wall or their mother before he was kneeling on the bed, hand gripping Sam's shoulder tightly. "Sammy, what's wrong?" he asked, while checking Sam for new injuries.

Sam was feeling more and more pathetic by the second, shaking in the aftermath of his dreams. He wanted to say he was fine, that it had only been a dream. The lie felt too big, he really didn't have the strength to pretend everything was fine. So he remained silent. 

Physically he was healed, there was no mark to show what the British chapter of the men of letters had done to him. Mentally, however, was a completely different story. Once, one of the monsters they were hunting at the time had described him as full of safety pins and duct-tape on the inside, or something along those lines. Never had that felt truer than it did now. 

"Hey, Sam," Dean said while squeezing his shoulder. "Sammy, hey, it's okay, you're okay, we got you out. You're safe. We’re back home, mom and Cas are here too." 

It's not until Cas entered with a tray full of steaming bowls, cups and plates that Sam realized he had never actually came into the room, despite racing there with Dean. 

"Sam, I made you tea, fresh orange juice, tomato rice soup, a salad and peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I wasn't sure what you would want, or if you would be hungry, so I just made it all," the angel explained while putting the tray down on the nightstand. 

"Tomato rice soup and a peanut butter and banana sandwich? You take after me," Mary said, smiling as she listened to the angel. Sam looked up at her in wonder, not aware that it was something his mom had done or liked. 

"It's what he wanted when he was sick as a kid. Though the peanut butter and banana thing was much more regular than that. I actually got into trouble over that once," Dean replied with a fond smile. Sam snorted at that, leaning towards everything being a hallucination once more. His mom and Dean, both alive and talking about favourite foods? There was no way this was real. The snort turned into full, slightly hysterical laughter after a second, drawing confused looks from his family. 

Castiel gave Sam an assessing look, squinting a little and tilting his head. "Sam, you are no longer hallucinating and are in fact awake. I made sure all traces of the hallucination spell were gone when I healed you. Dean did survive the confrontation with Amara, who is also responsible for bringing back your mother. I understand this is quite a lot to adapt to, but you can trust your senses here." 

Sam reached for the tea while Dean got more comfortable next to him. Taking a careful sip, he looked around the room. His mom and his brother both looked healthy and fine, if worried. Cas looked confused, which was pretty much his default mode. His little family was fine. His family was safe. He was safe.  He turned his eyes back to his mother. "I'm sorry for waking you," he said, feeling more and more stupid for waking and worrying everyone. 

"You didn't, I was catching up on your lives," she replied, holding up John's journal. Her eyes went from Sam to the tray of food, to Dean. "Would you mind if we stick around for a while? Maybe we can share some of the food that Castiel made?" Sam nodded and put his cup back on the nightstand, before scooting down a little to get more comfortable, dislodging Dean's hand from his shoulder in the process. Dean too rearranged himself to get more comfortable, settling against the headboard and stretching his legs out in front of him. 

Mary went to sit down in the only chair in the room, and before Sam was aware he was doing it his hand shot out and closed around her wrist, pulling her towards the bed as well. She gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand turning to rub at Sam's wrist. She gave him a small smile before letting go of his wrist and reaching for the tea cup and handing it back to him. "Go on, drink up. You need more fluids." 

After the cup of tea was gone, the tomato rice soup was shared between the four of them, as were the sandwiches. Sam's eyes started to droop when most of the food was gone and he sagged further down until he was essentially lying flat on his back, surrounded by his family. 

He didn't quite catch what Dean said to their mother, but it was followed by the first words of a Beatles song he hadn't heard in a very long time. Accompanying the song was a small but strong and unfamiliar hand carding through his hair. 

 

If this was a dream or a hallucination, it was a good one, Sam decided before drifting off to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I read a few "there I fixed it" fics for this episode but it still bugged me, so I wrote my own.   
> I hope you enjoyed it, kudos and comments are love <3


End file.
